


Bleeding Sunlight

by Alysae



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Road Trip, and cities that they don't know anything about, chasing aliens, honestly just two guys locked days and days in a speeding metal box
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-03-20 22:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13727466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alysae/pseuds/Alysae
Summary: Three teams of two go off on a road trip around the United States, chasing aliens and trying not to kill each other after hours and hours locked in the same car under the summer sun. This certainly was not what Bruce had signed up for when he joined the JLA. Thankfully, Clark thought he was good company, most of the time. And, well, it was a great way to start learning more about Bruce Wayne.





	1. Off To A Good Start

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up: I don't know where I am going with this! Literally, don't know where this idea came from. I have the story planned but don't know how many chapters this is going to be. This might turn out to be a slow burn. Also, the first multi-chaptered fic I write.
> 
> I hope you like it anyway!

“Is everything ready, then?” asked Diana, hands on her hips. Her lasso was hidden in her handbag looping in her shoulder.

Everyone was dressed incognito. John Jones had a leather jacket and leather boots that came up just below his knees ; Wally was wearing a snapback hat backwards─it had The Flash’s insignia on it, which Clark found rather foolish, as they were supposed to be ‘incognito’ ; Kyle, on the other hand, was wearing a blue shirt with Superman’s logo on it (and was showing it off as if it was a prize) ; Bruce was wearing his best suit (though, everything he owned was ‘his best’) ; and finally, Clark was actually in his work clothes─a.k.a an ill-fitting cheap suit with a tie.

“Well,” Wally said, “teams are gonna be weird, now. Except for me and Kyle.”

They smiled at each other and shared a high five.

“What do you mean?” Diana asked, frowning.

“I mean, Batman in an Armani and Superman in, uh, something probably bought in the nearest shop─”

“I actually bought it on the Internet,” Clark informed. It wasn’t _that_ cheap either.

“And J’onn looks like he’s going to war!”

“We _are_ , in a way, going to battle,” informed J’onn.

Wally shrugged. “I guess. Doesn’t mean everyone has to know it.”

“I thought it was rather fitting with the fashion these days?” Diana said. Her frown was even deeper, her mouth curled downwards. She was wearing a blouse and large jean trousers.

“It doesn’t matter. As long as we don’t look out of place,” Bruce said.

“Dude, you’re probably the one who looks the most out of place,” Kyle commented.

“They know who I am. They won't think twice about it. However, if I used anything cheap, they would start asking questions.”

Clark thought about Cat Grant and shuddered. If every tabloid press was like her, they would question everything that Bruce did, said or implied. He could already feel that this trip wasn’t going to be a quiet one.

“Point taken,” Wally said. He tapped the hood of his car. “Well, our ride is ready. Kyle, did you put your toothbrush?”

“Yup. Did you bring your phone charger?”

Wally’s eyes widened minutely and then, after a brush of cold hair, he was holding his charger in his hand. “Got it!”

“Then let’s all go.”

“We’ll all meet in Seattle, is that it?”

Bruce nodded. “Yes, J’onn said that he feels the most aliens in there. We’ll need as many people as possible.”

“Got it. Kyle, c’mon!”

One by one, they all entered the cars. There were three of them: one for Wally and Kyle, one for Diana and John, and one for Bruce and Clark. The latter stared at the car Bruce chose for them. It was a sports car─exceedingly expensive. Sure, he understood that _Bruce Wayne_ was supposed to be seen in expensive cars, but _Clark Kent_ definitely wasn’t. Clark was dreading the moment he’ll switch sides with Bruce.

He entered into the passenger’s seat. Bruce was adjusting the GPS location and off they went.

* * *

It had only been a couple of hours and Clark was already feeling restless. Although he had travelled by cars and trucks a lot when he was younger, he wasn’t used to it anymore. He was used to feeling the air speeding past him, his hair ruffled by the wind. The cold that somewhat went through his impenetrable skin… and it all felt so marvellous.

However, he was now stuck in what felt like a box, the air conditioning uselessly hitting his skin. He sighed for the umpteenth time.

“What?” Bruce asked, voice terse. He was gripping the wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. Briefly, Clark wondered what was up with him, but he rapidly found out that it was his own attitude. “You’ve been sighing for the past hour. Unless you want me to knock you out with some kryptonite, you might as well _shut up_.”

Clark fidgeted on his seat. “I know, I know─wait, you brought kryptonite with you?”

Bruce scoffed. “Of course. It’s in my utility belt.”

“Oh,” Clark said dumbly. He could understand why─it _was_ Clark who gave him the kryptonite ring, after all. “Sorry, I just feel really antsy. I’m not used anymore to being stuck in a car.”

“You should’ve said that sooner.”

And then the roof retracted and Clark could feel the cool wind against his skin and hair. He gave Bruce a loopy smile. “Should’ve seen that coming. How much till Baltimore?”

“Around half an hour. We’ll stop briefly to eat something and then continue to Louisville where we’ll stay the night.”

“Let me guess… a five-star hotel?”

“Of course,” Bruce scoffed. “Bruce Wayne can’t be seen sleeping in anything less.”

“Uh, might as well take the penthouse then,” Clark joked.

Bruce’s lip corner was turned slightly up. “That won’t be necessary. Don’t tempt me, though.”

His hair was ruffled by the wind, and although it did not affect Clark’s skin, the same could not be said for Bruce’s. His cheeks were getting flushed by the cold air that hit him at full force. Even if he already had the windshield to protect his eyes, he added sunglasses to top the look.

He looked right out of a movie.

“I still don’t get it why we need to go by _car_. It would’ve been faster by flying.”

“I agree, but you didn’t say anything when Diana imposed her ‘road trip’ idea,” Bruce said.

Clark shrugged. “You didn’t say anything as well! But, well, I guess she looked quite happy with her idea.”

“Whatever her reasons, I have to show that I trust her. She must have her reasons.”

“And that’s why you agreed,” Clark said, nodding. “Though, I doubt I could ever say no to her.”

Bruce nodded and sped up, passing the car in front of him. Clark grabbed the door as Bruce went way over the limit, even if nothing could really happen to him.

* * *

Lunch was a quiet and luxurious thing. Apparently, Alfred took care of everything─every restaurant they would go into, every hotel was already booked… Clark felt a little overwhelmed. It was the first time that he was going on a road trip around the states, and it was weird doing so next to Bruce, who apparently paid for everything. It made Clark incredibly uncomfortable.

The worst, he thought, was that he couldn’t even insist on paying, as everything that Bruce booked was way too much for Clark’s reporter salary.

The waiter poured some water into their cups and gave them the menu. As he left, Bruce took his phone out of his pocket and typed something in it.

“Wally and Kyle are just a few miles away from Washington DC,” he informed in a bored tone.

But Clark could hear some frustration underneath it. “Already? Weren’t they supposed to be just behind us?”

“Yes, they _were_ ,” Bruce said, pressing the last word. “They probably used their powers.”

Clark shook his head. “If they continue like that, they will be in Miami in no time.”

“They obviously are not following Diana’s instructions.”

“You know…” Clark gave him a mischievous smile, eyes glinting. “I could fly us over to Kansas in a few minutes. Catch them up. Finish this mission up quickly.”

“As much tempting as that is, Diana would decapitate us. If you are up for that, be my guest. Just don’t drag me down with you,” Bruce said, taking a sip of his drink.

“Wally and Kyle are so, _so_ dead.”

Clark looked down at the menu and held his breath. _Rao_ , he thought. There weren’t any prices showing, and Clark could only guess them. Bruce sat back in his seat, looking as if he was at home, leisurely going over the menu.

“Do you prefer white or red wine?”

“Um, whichever suits you. I, uh, don’t really have a preference,” Clark answered, feeling a little dumb. Either way, alcohol did not affect him, so it was all the same.

Bruce hummed, taking another sip.

“By the way, any news from Diana?” Clark asked, trying to change topics.

His colleague nodded, “They stopped at a McDonald's around an hour ago in Hartford and are on their way to Boston.”

Clark stared longingly at his menu, thinking about the delicious meal that Diana and John probably shared. It was probably way, _way_ better than this. Clark, obviously, wasn’t used to all this luxury. After all the years he knew Bruce, he still wasn’t used to his showing off his wealth. He knew it was only a façade, part of his _Brucie Wayne_ mask. But knowing the real Bruce, it made Clark a little uncomfortable.

The waiter came back. It was a young man, and Bruce didn’t hesitate to give him a charming smile as he ordered something that probably cost two times Clark’s salary. (He wished he was exaggerating, but he could never be sure.)

Once the waiter walked off with their order, Clark leant forward. “Okay, so. How do you know all that? About the others? Are you following them by satellite? A little chip on their cars or clothes?”

Clark was half joking, but Bruce didn’t seem to hear the joking part as his lips turned down and his frown deepened. He looked around them and smoothed out his expression to one of mildly interested in the conversation. “No,” he answered. “I asked them to report to me every few hours and if they encounter any shapeshifting white jelly-like skinned aliens.”

Clark’s cheeks reddened at Bruce’s unimpressed tone as he lamely answered with an, “Oh.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between them as they waited for their food. Or, at least, it was uncomfortable to Clark. Bruce seemed to be at ease with the blank, just as he was at ease with the expensive surroundings.

Clark sighed and looked around. The restaurant was filled with people─families with their young children, couples in a rendez-vous, old men talking business. He wondered, for a second, what Bruce and he looked like to them. Business partners? _Friends_? He wondered if Bruce saw Clark as his friend. Clark certainly did.

(After all the years they knew each other, after all… Bruce was the only Justice Leaguer that Clark knew better. He was the first one that Clark went to when he needed help, or just needed to talk. He felt like they could perfectly understand each other.)

Their table was right next to the window. The view was quite magnificent, with tall buildings and the Emerson Bromo-Seltzer Tower was standing proudly in sight. It was nothing like the magnificence of Metropolis, though, and Clark found himself longing for his city.

However, he tried to console himself, they would go to Kansas City and Bruce agreed to stay the night in Smallville with the Kent’s. At least he would see his parents out of this mission (he thought that, maybe, Diana did this on purpose).

The silence stayed through lunch. Clark chewed his steak but it somehow felt like ash on his tongue. Bruce, on the other hand, was gazing to the side and winking at whoever dared to look his way.

The silence continued as they walked down to the waiting car.

Clark decided to break it. “Do you want me to drive?”

“No.”

The silence continued.


	2. Slightly Bumpy Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it was when I started writing chapter 2 that I realised what a big mistake a road trip 'round the USA was. What do I know about the USA? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, nada. All the research I had (and will have) to do for this fic. The highways, the cities and towns I've never even heard about. Jesus, it's as if _I_ 'm the one doing the road trip. Should've done a trip round Europe. Much more familiar (in the US sometimes you need a DAY to go from one state to the other?? jfc)
> 
> Anyway, ranting over. Hope you enjoy!

From Baltimore to Louisville, it was around nine hours. Around five pm, Bruce closed the roof and they continued the trip in silence, without the wind rushing past their ears. For some reason, Bruce didn’t like driving while listening to music, so Clark stared out of the window for the rest of the trip, the silence wearing him down.

The only stop in nine hours was around Lexington for a stop at the WC and fuel, and they continued on the road. The only thing breaking the terribly uncomfortable silence was the GPS voice, giving the directions without missing a beat. Every few minute, the woman’s voice sliced through the silence like a knife.

Clark had considered taking a nap in the back seats, but he hadn’t wanted to leave Bruce awake alone. As he drove, the man barely blinked. He went a little over the limit, passing cars and earning himself some honks. Had Clark been human, he’d be scared for his life. Where had Bruce learned to drive?

Dumbly, he remembered that Bruce probably travelled abroad before he could even drive. He wanted to ask but couldn’t bring himself to break the heavy silence.

Bruce clicked on a button and there was a ringing before a very familiar British accent cut the silence.

“Master Bruce, sir. Mister Clark,” he added.

“Hello Alfred,” Clark greeted.

“Alfred, we’re fifty miles away from Louisville,” Bruce informed. “Send me the coordinates for the hotel.”

“Yes, sir. Everything is already taken care of. You only need to say your name and you’ll be conducted to a room with two double beds. You only need to ask for the direction of the restaurant.”

“I’m not hungry.” He looked at Clark. “If you are, you can go─”

“Sir, if I may be so bold, humans, most of all, must eat. And you are no exception to this rule.”

Bruce sighed irritably. “Fine. Give me the estimated locations of the aliens, please.”

“Certainly, sir.”

And then the line went dead and Clark stared ahead. A minute after, Bruce’s phone beeped.

“Clark,” Bruce called.

Clark startled out of his daze and looked at the man. Bruce wasn’t looking at him, but his mouth was thin and pursed, his gaze intent on the road. “Yeah?”

“Take my phone out of my pocket and look at what Alfred sent me.”

He stared bemusedly at being so coldly ordered around but did as he was told. He fished the phone and said what Alfred wrote. Bruce nodded once and continued in silence. Clark gazed down at the phone in his hand and felt himself nod off. If Bruce wanted quiet, he’d give it to him. Either way, Clark couldn’t stay much more awake even if he wanted.

It was an hour later that he woke with a start as the car pulled up in the parking lot of a luxurious hotel. It was enormous, and Clark couldn’t help staring up through the windshield. He turned to Bruce who was turning off the GPS and putting it in the glove compartment.

Clark looked at his watch: it was nine pm.

He sighed tiredly and stretched. “Jeez, can’t wait for a good night sleep.”

“In a five-star hotel,” Bruce added, and just like that the strained atmosphere disappeared and they got out of the car, talking about the hotel and how Bruce had been in way better ones in Europe. (Despite the fact that this was the most luxurious hotel Clark had ever entered.)

Just as Alfred had instructed, upon Bruce announcing who he was, they were both led to the lift and up they went to the top floor, the sixteenth. The porter that was leading them was holding both Bruce’s and Clark’s luggage, and the latter couldn’t help but think that he had two healthy strong arms to do just that.

They were stopped in front of a room, the number 292 in golden. The porter opened the door, deposited each luggage in front of each bed and started explaining everything. Clark was mostly tuning his voice out, completely distracted by the décor of the room. Just on top of each bed was a painting. Just in front of the two beds was a tall cupboard with an enormous TV as thin as paper.

The beddings looked incredibly, temptingly soft to the point that Clark’s eyes started getting droopy just by looking.

Once the porter stopped explaining, Bruce rudely shooed him away. When they were finally alone, Clark flopped down on his designated bed and moaned at how soft the sheets were.

“Feels like heaven,” Clark muttered into the cover.

“Of course it does,” Bruce said, opening his luggage and peering inside. “So, are you hungry?”

Clark thought about it. He wasn’t really _that_ hungry, and he knew that if they went down to the hotel’s expensive restaurant, he’d probably lose the little appetite he had. “I dunno. Just want a hamburger. Something really fast and unhealthy.”

He heard a snort from above him and raised his head. Bruce was exchanging his suit jacket for a leather one and his trousers to skinny black jeans.

Clark stared dumbly as Bruce changed. “You’re going out?”

“Of course. Bruce Wayne brings his friend Clark Kent on a road trip to try a loosen the guy up. Either you coming or not, Brucie is going to be seen in the nearest nightclub surrounded by hot and drunk people. Hours later, the Bat is going to stealthily roam the night in search of some aliens in Louisville theater district.”

“Um, yeah. Sounds good. But, yeah, I don’t really do nightclubs,” Clark said, sitting up uneasily.

Bruce nodded as if he understood perfectly. “I don’t blame you if you don’t come. But at one point in this trip, you’re going to have to join me for some ‘ _fun_ ’.” He picked a gel tube from his luggage and disappeared into the bathroom. A minute later, his head appeared on the threshold, hair slicked back. “How about Brucie and Clark going to a McDonald’s, having some fun in the cheap restaurant, and then Batman and Superman appear later that night?”

“No nightclub?”

“No nightclub,” Bruce affirmed. “In spite of what many think, ‘Brucie Wayne’ is no synonym for ‘nightclub’.”

Clark’s lips curled up into a wry smile. “Coulda fooled me.” He stood up and opened his luggage, taking a jacket out of it. “So, rich kid Brucie is going to eat a hamburger?”

“It’s going to be weird as I’m not used to it, but I’ll manage. I’ve seen the kids eating them endlessly.”

“Dick and Jason?”

“And Tim,” Bruce added with a dramatic weary sigh. “Kids these days don’t know what real food is about. Alfred is appalled everytime they come back home with Happy Meals. What even is _that_ supposed to be?”

Clark couldn’t help barking out a laugh. “Bruce─ you never had a Happy Meal?”

“Alfred said that if I could avoid food like that, I should. The only time I didn’t have proper food was when Alfred left and I had to order pizza." He frowned, lower lip pouting. "I think I over-tipped the delivery guy…”

There were tears welling in Clark’s eyes now, and he had to wipe them away before they fell. His fit of giggles wouldn’t stop and he had to hold his belly. “Jesus, Bruce, you’re _impossible_.”

“So I’ve heard,” Bruce replied with a small smirk.

* * *

As it was, Clark had to teach Bruce how to properly eat a hamburger. (Bruce had ridiculously tried to eat his with a knife and fork.)

Just as when they ate in the luxurious restaurant, they were the victims of everyone’s attention. Or, more accurately, Bruce was. Which he seemed to thrive in; he winked, murmured, and even had to mournfully refuse an invitation for drinks, his excuse being that he had ‘a man to teach how to have some fun’. All the while Clark tried to hide himself in his food, looking down at his French fries and his coke.

Two hours later, Superman flew over Louisville, dropping on a roof next to the dark figure of Batman. Two forms were lying on the ground, tied up nicely with wire rope.

“No more?”

“No more,” Superman confirmed. “Black Canary?”

And just by pronouncing the name into the comlink, the two figures on the ground disappeared in a soft light.

“We’ve got them,” she informed in a slightly bored tone. “Green Arrow is taking them to the holding cells in the Tower.”

“Alright. Batman out,” the Dark Knight informed before taking the comlink out of his ear and placing it inside one of the pouches in his utility belt.

Superman repeated and did the same thing. “Can’t wait to _sleep_ ,” he informed for the second time that night.

Batman hummed in agreement. He approached the blue-clad hero and hesitantly put his arms around his neck. For a moment, Clark wondered what was happening, his brain too exhausted to understand anything and probably short-circuiting, before it clicked. Right. Flying.

They had agreed that it would be better if Batman wasn’t seen outside of Gotham City, especially that Bruce Wayne was also travelling. So instead of jumping around with his grappling hook from rooftop to rooftop, Superman would fly him over from place to place. Clark could tell that this did not please Bruce, that it made him feel crippled, but it was the only way.

So Superman wrapped his own arm around Batman’s waist and flew them to an alley just next to their hotel. They changed into civilian clothes and went back to their room.

While Bruce took a shower, Clark fell asleep as he waited for his turn, lulled by the soothing sound of running water.


	3. Twisting The Rules

The next morning, day two, Clark barely had time to take a shower _and_ eat breakfast. Bruce, who was lucky enough to have taken his shower the night before, had just gulped down two pancakes and was ready to go. Even if Clark was used to getting up at an early hour, he was still tired from the night before.

(He honestly suspected that Bruce actually hadn’t slept at all, if the bags under his eyes were any indication.)

Either way, at eight o’clock sharp, the valet gave Clark the car keys and off they went. Clark maneuvered around the city as Bruce switched the GPS on.

He quietly followed the instructions and ultimately understood one thing: Bruce had never been mad at him and it had all been in Clark’s head. Bruce had been quiet yesterday because he was way more concentrated on the road than on any conversation. He knew this because, now that Clark was in his place, he did the exact same thing.

One hour in and Clark couldn’t deal with the silence anymore. He looked sideways from time to time─he either found Bruce dozing off (confirming his suspicion) or typing away on his phone.

“What’re you doing?” Clark asked, breaking the silence.

Bruce looked up at him from his phone screen, frowning. He gazed at the highway, the other cars, and then back at his phone. “Dick’s asking how we’re doing,” he informed. “And demanding gifts.”

Clark’s lips curled up. “Should’ve bought something for him at the hotel. Think I saw some gift shop in the foyer.”

“Too late. I said that I’ll try to get him something from St Louis. I think he’s currently pouting, as he’s not replying.”

Clark snorted, which then transformed into a giggle. “Can’t imagine Dick pouting.”

Bruce’s lips quirked. “It’s rather charming.”

And then he fell silent, typing something on his phone, and Clark gave the road his undivided attention.

That is until half an hour passed.

“Are we going to eat something in St Louis or are we continuing?” Clark questioned as he could feel his belly rumbling. He only had time to wolf down a pancake that morning─Bruce didn’t even give him the time to drink something.

“When are we getting to St Louis?” Bruce asked distractedly.

“At noon.”

Brows frowning, Bruce looked at the time on his phone. “Clark,” he said, “it’s just half past nine.”

“I _know_.” His voice was as dejected as it could get.

Bruce sighed dramatically. “ _Fine_. Let’s stop at a coffee shop or something.”

“Are there any ‘round here?” Clark asked curiously. Bruce was looking it up on his phone and nodded, giving Clark the directions.

Fifteen minutes later, Clark was happily drinking a hot coffee and eating a croissant. Bruce sat in front of him, on the other side of the table, still typing on his phone. Curiosity was killing him, but Clark remained quiet. If it was anything important─or, well, anything important that had to do with Superman or Clark Kent─he trusted that Bruce would inform him.

After his coffee pause, they went off again, Clark’s belly satiated and its owner definitely more awake and ready for three more hours of driving.

* * *

They were nearing St Louis when Bruce received a call and Wally’s voice filled the car. It had a laughing edge as if he couldn’t help his giggles.

“Ba─I mean, Bruce,” he started, giggled, and continued. “ _Bruce_ ,” he repeated.

“What is it, Wally?”

“So, you know how we’re in Georgia, yeah?”

Bruce hummed, frowning.

“Yeah, so me and Kyle stopped at Augusta before continuing to Atlanta, and─” He giggled.

“It’s beautiful, by the way,” came a woman’s voice next to the phone.

Bruce tensed. “Wally. Who is that?”

“Yeah, that’s the thing.” The voices rose on the other side, and they seemed to be fighting over the phone. “So,” Wally continued, “we stopped at Augusta for snacks, and Kyle encountered this really beautiful chick. We fought for a moment as we each tried to empress─”

“Get a move on,” Bruce urged.

“Right,” the redhead continued, “turns out she was a witch. Like, magic and all that stuff, you know? And she cursed Kyle. Or should I call her Kyla?”

“Oh no,” Clark voiced, catching up with his babbling.

“Actually, Clark, he’s pretty hot. She─ Whatever.”

Bruce breathed in slowly. “You can’t stay out of trouble, can you?” he muttered, and Clark thought that nobody was supposed to have heard that. “How long will the curse last?”

“Dunno. I was laughing too hard to hear what the witch said─”

“Three days, I think,” the woman’s voice cut in. Bemusedly, Clark realised that it was Kyle’s new voice.

“Right. Anyway, that was our report if anything happened. We’re having the time of our life! What about you?”

“Oh yes,” Bruce said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “we’re having whale of a time.”

“Right? Never been so far from home!”

And then the line went dead and the two of them stayed in silence for a handful of minutes.

“Well,” Clark said, cutting the thick silence, “at least Kyle didn’t seem upset. He did sound like he was enjoying himself.”

“This is a _mission_ , Clark. Not something to enjoy ourselves.”

After that, Clark didn’t dare to cut the silence again. Especially because it was obvious Bruce was in a sour mood, if his furious typing on his phone was any indication.

* * *

When Clark parked in front of the restaurant Alfred had chosen, Bruce had calmed down. In fact, he had taken a nap and just woke up. His voice was rough as he sleepily greeted Clark.

For some stupid reason, his heart hammered against his chest at the sight─Bruce’s bleary and glassy eyes, his lines softened with exhaustion and sleepiness, his hair as disheveled as when he had opened the roof of the car.

Clark stammered a greeting and got off the car.

Bruce followed, looking more and more awake and tried to make himself presentable. His clothes─which were more casual than yesterday’s─were wrinkled and he tried to smooth them down. When it proved to be all in vain, he muttered frustratedly about the ‘next stop’ and ‘new clothes’.

Clark suppressed the smile that threatened to show and followed Bruce inside. Bruce only had to show his ID to be hastily led to a stylish table by a flustered waiter. Clark prepared himself for Bruce’s acting, but apparently, he wasn’t quite in the mood and just talked to her, already ordering his meal, even if she hadn’t given them the menu. Clark hastily ordered the same thing, and the woman walked off.

“You okay?” Clark asked.

“Yes. I messaged Diana about Kyle’s predicament,” he informed.

“Oh? What’d she say?”

In answer, he fished out his phone from his pocket, typed something, and then showed the screen. Clark’s mouth twitched as he tried not to smile at Diana’s reply: three perfectly aligned laughing emojis.

“It’s like she’s mocking me,” Bruce said, sighing.

Clark could see that the conversation went on, but didn’t dare to pry. (However, he could decipher Bruce’s next message as a complaint about the guys not taking the mission seriously.)

But he needn’t pry, though, as Bruce readily answered his unasked question. “She said I should take their example and have some fun myself. And added that she and Jones were going to stay two or so days in Chicago when they got there. Apparently, she had always been curious about the city’s appeal.”

“Really?” Clark asked. “Guess they’re going to have the full experience as true tourists, then. How are they, by the way?”

“Just fine,” Bruce replied moodily. “She sent me a photo of Pittsburgh. They left Harrisburg at nine am.”

“Oh, so they enjoyed their breakfast, hm?”

Bruce’s lips twitched and his mood seemed to ease at Clark’s joke. “I guess,” he replied.

“Perhaps she’s right, you know.”

And just as his mood lifted, it was rapidly soured again. “About what?”

“Having fun. I _know_ this is a mission,” he said as Bruce opened his mouth to interrupt, “but, as Diana said, that does not stop us from having a little bit of fun. We could go to the aquarium, or walk in the park, or,” he hesitated for a second, “or a nightclub.”

Bruce didn’t seem convinced, but Clark clapped his own back mentally for still being alive.

“These aliens are disorganised. That’s what J’onn said, remember? They won’t have invaded Earth just because we stayed in a city an hour longer than we were supposed to.”

“I guess,” Bruce allowed.

The waiter came back with their orders. Instead of wine, Bruce had chosen an apple juice and they both ate in amiable silence. Bruce even agreed to have dessert.

“I was wondering,” Clark started, and Bruce looked up from his ice cream. “With all this talk about enjoying ourselves and all that… Do you want to stay a bit longer in Smallville? I can show you the sights!”

Clark knew he looked like an excited child as he looked at Bruce. He could feel his cheeks reddening with both embarrassment and excitement. To be quite honest, the thought of showing Bruce his high school, or the places he used to frequent as a teenager was thrilling. He never even thought about introducing his friend to his parents before this ridiculous trip, but the occasion was too precious to miss.

Either it was because of Clark’s face or because he knew Clark would be insufferable if he refused, Bruce agreed with a reluctant, “Fine.”

After lunch and buying a little trinket for Dick, they were back on the road. Bruce had insisted on driving (he even threatened to use kryptonite on Clark), so Clark found himself lying on the back seats of the car. Before he started dozing off, he sent a message to Diana to tell her the news. She sounded as excited as Clark felt.


	4. Light Headed

_The sky was too bright, but the sun wasn’t out. Clark couldn’t look up─his neck wouldn’t respond to his brain's command. In fact, it felt like his whole body wasn’t responding. Like he was watching his body move without having any say in it._

_He watched as his eyes reddened, and he knew what was going to happen._

_Around him was the Justice League. Flash was goofing around, speeding past weirdly-looking aliens that were disturbingly familiar to his hazy mind. But he couldn’t put his finger on it. Kyle was conjuring a gigantic tractor, yelling Texan slang and waving around a cowboy hat._

_Diana was trying up a dozen of aliens and J’onn was right there to knock them out. Bruce, on the other hand, was throwing exploding batarangs after batarangs, pulverizing the jelly-skinned aliens._

_Disturbingly enough, they didn’t scream. In fact, they didn't utter any sound. Or maybe Clark’s ears weren’t responding as well._

_And then there was Clark. Who couldn’t control his own body─his own powers._

_He knew what was going to happen. He tried to open his mouth to scream, to yell at his friends to get out of the way._

_But it was too late. Everything went up in smoke._

Clark woke up with a start, his hand flying to his heart as it beat uncontrollably in his chest. He looked around, disoriented. When he noticed Bruce driving, the yesterday came back in a flash and he sighed, lying back down.

That was when he actually heard it─humming.

Bruce was humming.

The radio was silent─Bruce hated driving with music distracting him. _Bruce was humming something to himself_. It was slow, repetitive, and soft. And completely unfamiliar. Clark wondered what he was mentally singing. In fact, he wondered if Bruce would start singing at some point.

(Or if he has already sung, and Clark missed the only opportunity he would ever have to listen to Bruce’s voice _singing_.)

Except it was utterly impossible, now. Because Bruce noticed Clark stirring, and looked at him through the rearview mirror. His grey eyes met Clark’s blue, and for a moment (or maybe a second, Clark couldn’t tell if he used his powers or not) they stared at each other.

“You should call your parents telling them we’ll be late for dinner,” Bruce said, eyeing the road again.

Clark blinked, still feeling a little bit sleepy, and looked around. Familiar surroundings─Kansas City. His eyebrows went up.

“How long was I asleep?”

Bruce gave him a vague grunt. “‘Round four hours.”

“What.” It wasn’t a question. Clark leaned in next to him in the middle seat. “Do you want me to drive so you can take a nap?”

Now he gave Clark a sneer. “I do not _nap_.”

Clark rolled his eyes. “Well, mister, would you like me to drive so you can have a light short period of sleep to recuperate the hours you have used being awake?” Clark asked, using (and probably failing) his best snobbish voice.

That actually made Bruce snort, his lips curled up and eyes dancing. At least for a brief second. “No, I’m fine.”

“But it’s still three hours until we get to Smallville!”

Bruce hummed, nodding. “That’s why I said you should call your parents.”

Clark huffed but complied. No way to sway Bruce─he would be just wasting his time trying to convince him.

* * *

Clark felt something gently ghosting over his face. At first, he thought it was a fly, so he swatted at it. Except that he felt something much larger and heavier against his hand.

He blearily opened his eyes and was met with the roof of Bruce’s car. He stared at it, dazed, before looking around the car. Bruce wasn’t on any of the front seats─he was right in front of Clark, actually. One of the back doors was opened and Bruce stood there, right over Clark’s head. He had to crane his neck up to look at him.

Bruce’s hand hovered next to his head, Clark’s hand squeezing his wrist.

“Wha…?” His voice was rough with sleep, and Clark─embarrassingly enough─could feel dried drool at the corner of his mouth.

He let go of Bruce’s hand and quickly wiped it with his sleeves. Had he been paying close attention to Bruce, he’d notice that the man looked like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. As it was, when Clark sat up and turned around in his seat, Bruce was recomposed, looking at Clark with a raised brow.

Clark felt himself flush and looked at his feet. Thankfully, Bruce didn’t comment about Clark drooling in his sleep and silently stepped away so Clark could get out of the car.

And then Clark gaped dumbly at the familiar white house with the old red barn to the side. He closed his mouth, but his eyebrows were still up when he turned to look at Bruce. There was a question there.

Bruce just shrugged nonchalantly.

Clark was about to voice his question, but then he heard the front door open, followed by the screen door, and he completely forgot his question at the sight of his Ma.

A blinding smile formed on his lips as he walked towards his Ma, who was already calling for him with wide open arms. She hadn’t changed at all. Sure, her hair was whiter and her face wearier, but she looked just as energetic and cheerful as ever. As he hugged her, he could see his Pa approaching at a much slower pace over her shoulder. Once he reached them and his Ma released him, his Pa clapped on his shoulder before hugging him just as tightly.

“Bruce!”

Clark looked up just in time to see his Ma suddenly hugging an unsuspecting (and very astounded) Bruce Wayne. She was babbling over his shoulder about _how long has it been?_ and _when did you plan on calling?_ whilst Bruce helplessly looked at Clark, lost. Next to him, Clark heard his Pa snort before he too greeted Bruce, forcing his Ma to release the billionaire.

After the welcoming hugs, his Ma ushered them inside and lead them to the kitchen, where she had been hearing their dinner.

Bruce stood awkwardly until Clark sat in one of the chairs and Bruce took the chair next to his. That made Clark smile, and he tried to hide it behind his glass of water—he knew it would infuriate Bruce if he saw him amused by his discomfort.

Something else that also hasn't changed was his Ma’s cooking—it was as delicious as ever, if not more. It had been months since the last time he stayed for dinner. Sure, he visited his parents every so other week, but only for a few hours before he flew back to Metropolis; he never stayed for dinner.

Clark ate slowly, appreciating very flavour and taste of each bite of the homemade meal. He knew he wouldn't be eating one so soon—either they would be eating at expensive restaurants that only filled a quarter of the plate, or Clark would manage to convince Bruce to eat at a fast food restaurant where everything was greasy and highly unhealthy.

While they dug in, Ma asked questions about their trip—the sights, the people, the food… Clark answered each one of them readily; how they hadn't stopped that much to actually talk with people (did them flirting with Bruce count as talking?), or to actually look around the cities and towns. Mostly, they stuck to the highways.

He also mentioned the small trinket they bought for Dick. It was a small keychain, nothing special. After hearing about that, Ma insisted that the next day they go to town and buy the poor fellow something from Smallville.

(Clark already knew what he could buy, to be quite honest. He would talk about it to Bruce the next day, but he was sure the man would agree to whatever Clark chose, either way.)

After their late dinner, Bruce walked up the stairs to Clark’s old bedroom where he would be sleeping the night (after both Clark and his Ma insisted and hit him down when Bruce complained). Clark, on the other hand, would be sleeping on the couch.

“Do you really want to wake up the next day with knots in the back? Do you?” Clark had insisted as a matter of convincing Bruce. “ _I_ don't feel pain, remember?”

Bruce had looked at him like he had eaten a lemon before stomping up the stairs.

Clark couldn't help smiling as he remembered his expression. It was absolutely priceless; he wished he had taken a picture of it. And Bruce stomping his feet? Adorable. Especially as he tried at the same time not to because his Pa and Ma were both watching the scene.

He fell asleep at that thought, Bruce’s pout still in mind.

Although he wasn’t a light sleeper, per se, he still woke up when he heard one of the wooden stair step squeak under the pressure followed by a muttered curse. He blearily opened one eye and turned his head around, just in time to see Bruce’s silhouette quietly slipping through the front door. He stared at the closed door for a moment, wondering if he should go back to sleep or if he should follow him out.

For some reason, the thought of Bruce yelling at him for following him didn’t scare him as much (especially because the man wasn’t wearing the scary Batman outfit). And he was sure that Bruce needed the company if what he suspected was true.

Slowly, he stood up and hovered above the ground an inch or so until he was in front of the door. Bruce stood just outside, sitting on the front porch steps. Clark quietly sat next to him, looking in the same direction at the bright stars on the horizon.

“What did you hear?” Bruce whispered, sighing.

Clark might have found the question weird, had it been anyone else asking. But it made perfect sense coming from Bruce. He tilted his head to one side, gaze slipping to Bruce’s face. “Just your steps on the stairs… why?”

Bruce was paler than usual, eyes tired with dark bags under them. His sweaty hair was sticking in the air at odd ends and to his forehead. Now that he was looking, Clark noticed that Bruce was completely drenched in sweat.

He stared a little at the white transparent shirt sticking to Bruce’s chest and chiseled abs, before willing his eyes up. Bruce didn’t look like he was going to answer. Clark chanced his luck.

“Was it the nightmares?”

Bruce’s gaze sharpened as he turned his head to Clark. “I thought you didn’t hear anything other than my steps?”

“And I didn’t,” Clark answered, a little bit defensively. “But I heard you in Louisville. You don’t exactly _talk_ in your sleep, but you thrash a _lot_. I hesitated in waking you up, but I figured you wouldn’t have liked that.”

Bruce was quiet for a moment before looking away, humming a noncommittal sound. “No, I wouldn’t,” he said softly.

Clark gulped with some difficulty. Somehow, sitting here, shoulder to shoulder, talking softly to each other… it looked incredibly intimate. Clark could already feel his cheeks heating up at the thought and he fidgeted with his hands, looking down at them.

He thought that they would sit there for a few minutes and then go back inside. Instead, they stayed there the whole night, looking up at the stars and, when dawn came, at the bleeding sunlight across the sky. It all felt to Clark like a hazy dream─he couldn’t quite believe yet that he was sharing this precious moment with Bruce.


	5. Under The Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I actually researched about Smallville's population census and in the DC database it's 100,000 and in Smallville (TV show) it's 45,000. Smallville is _supposed_ to be a _small town_. How's that a small town? Either way, I'm using the TV show's population bc it makes a little more sense.

And that was how his Ma found them the next morning. At 7 o’clock sharp, she opened the front door, then the screen door, and gazed with a fond look at the two men with their backs turned to her. Clark heard her but didn’t want to ruin the quiet moment. Bruce didn’t flinch or turn, either, and Clark suspected that his tired mind didn’t even register the sound of his Ma’s steps as she walked back inside.

They hadn’t fallen asleep, as some might have thought. Both of them were still staring at the horizon, blue and orange-ish with the morning sun. It prickled Clark’s eyes, the brightness too sudden for his own tired eyes. He closed them and silently basked in the sun and its heat.

When he opened his eyes again, Bruce was looking at him. Clark offered him a smile, and Bruce returned a more subsided one, but a smile anyway.

His Ma came back out, and this time Bruce heard her as he turned around to greet her.

“Morning, boys,” she replied, holding two hot cups of tea in her hands. “How was your stargazing?”

Bruce gratefully accepted his cup and the corner of his lip quirked slightly up at her comment. “Definitely different from the city.”

Ma agreed, humming. “It certainly changes, doesn’t it? Had you already seen the night sky without all the pollution and lights?”

Bruce nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “In Asia. I stayed in mountains, and as you might guess the sky there was incredibly beautiful. Though, I have to admit that the Kansas heat is definitely welcome.”

“Nothing beats Kansas’ sun,” Clark chimed in, sipping his own tea. “I’ll have to show you Smallville. It might be small and all, but I know some interesting hidden places.” His eyes gleamed. “I used to train my powers in some of them.”

“And don’t forget that Dick will want some kind of gift,” Bruce added with an exasperated sigh.

Clark smirked. “I already thought of that. I’ll have to show you mine and see if you deem it good for Dick. They probably still sell them in town.”

He stood up from the porch steps and followed his Ma inside, Bruce following. He placed his empty teacup inside the sink and walked up the stairs two steps at a time. He entered his old bedroom and looked down at the bed, the sheets rumpled and still humid from Bruce’s perspiration. He stared at it for a moment before shaking his head, clearing his mind. Right. Dick’s gift.

He opened his wardrobe and rummaged through it, letting go an enthusiastic _whoop!_ as he found what he was searching. He ran down the stairs and proudly showed the white shirt. On the middle, in black, was written ‘PROPERTY OF SMALLVILLE’. Clark looked expectantly at Bruce over the shirt.

The only answer he got was a snort and a flash of his phone camera. “I can’t believe you used to wear that,” Bruce commented.

“What? It’s good, isn’t it?” he asked, frowning down at the shirt. It was a gift from Lana Lang, actually, and he kind of missed using it. Maybe he’ll take it back to Metropolis with him. Lois would laugh her arse off about it, though.

“Yes, it’s perfect. Dick loves it,” Bruce answered. “Will buy him one when you’re showing me the magnificent sights.”

“Oh, so now you’re making fun of me?” Clark said, sitting on the couch next to him. The blanket he used was neatly folded on the other side.

Bruce turned to him with his grey eyes, large and falsely innocent. “Me? Making fun of you? Never,” he said seriously before his solemn expression vanished to be replaced by a smirk and amused eyes.

Clark sniggered, knocking his shoulder playfully against Bruce’s.

* * *

Bruce’s mood had subdued when they reached town after lunch. People were walking around on the pavement, walking their dog or with their groceries in hand. Clark parked the truck a parking lot as Bruce stared around.

Smallville was a little town, but with enough people that you didn’t really cross everyone every single day. Clark led the way to a small shop down the road, Bruce dutifully following quietly, still looking around. Clark wondered what went through the man’s mind at the moment.

There were shirts and trousers lining up the walls and the shop window, small things like sun cream and bathing suits on the racks. Bruce raised a brow at that.

“There’s a river just outside of town where people can go swimming,” Clark explained, moving to the other side of the shop.

Clark knew the owner and recognised him immediately once he noticed him behind the counter. He was old, now, and there was a teenager next to him typing on his phone and supervising the shop at the same time.

“Clark!” Mr. Hopper exclaimed when he looked up. “You haven’t changed in the last few years!”

“Mr. Hopper,” Clark greeted, shaking his hand. The last time they saw each other, Clark had been in his last year of high school. “Can’t say the same thing, though. And who’re you?”

The teenager pocketed his phone and extended his hand. “I’m his grandson. Oldest one.”

They talked for a moment, reminiscing about the old days and all the trouble Clark got himself into. Next to Clark, Bruce stood awkwardly but listening attentively to the conversation, no doubt cataloguing each new information about Superman’s youth.

“So, what brings you here?” Mr. Hopper asked, looking from Clark to Bruce and back again.

“I was wondering if you still had that shirt with ‘property of Smallville’ in it? It’s for my friend’s son. I’m showing him the sights.”

Bruce blinked at the word _son_ but didn’t say anything. Mr. Hopper seemed to think about it before nodding and walking off. Clark made small talk with the teenager, mostly questions about high school, until Mr. Hopper came back with a white shirt identical to Clark’s one. Bruce paid for the shirt, thanked them, and they both left.

The man stayed quiet as Clark showed him his high school, and the church, and the park. It was only when Clark started driving away from town that Bruce perked up, looking through the windows at the trees. Clark parked next to the entrance of the forest surrounding the town.

“I used to train there,” he mentioned as he walked out of the truck and into the forest, following a small, almost imperceptible, path. He followed it through memory. “Lana and Pete almost found me, once. It’s good here because nobody comes here, and there’re big rocks to lift up.”

“And for super speed,” Bruce added, looking around.

“Yeah, that too. Though I ran into many trees at the beginning,” Clark chuckled.

That made Bruce smile slightly.

* * *

Dinner was better affair than yesterday. This time Bruce actually participated in the conversation. Ma had questioned him about what he thought about Smallville, and although Clark thought the man had seemed too quiet and distracted, Bruce answered honestly, comparing it to some towns he frequented when he travelled in Europe and Asia.

And then the conversation turned to the meal itself, Bruce complimenting his Ma’s cooking, and that led to a talk about Alfred’s cooking.

Then his Pa joined in, asking Bruce about Gotham and comparing it to Clark’s description of Metropolis.

Clark watched them silently, enjoying his meal and the fact that Bruce was warming up to his parents.

And when the time came to sleep, when his Pa and Ma went up the stairs to their room, Bruce didn’t bother going up to Clark’s old bedroom. Instead, with a hot cup of tea in hand, he walked out the door to the front porch. Clark, with his own cup of tea, followed him outside and they sat there like yesterday.

This time, however, they both fell asleep as the bleeding sunlight of dawn rose up, heads leaning against the other.


	6. Picture Perfect

Day four, Clark counted as he opened his eyes and stared at the morning sun. It was high up in the sky, and Clark figured it was around 10 am. There was a weigh on his shoulder and he remembered last night─Bruce was too tired to stay awake and had fallen asleep on Clark. Clark had been too nervous to move, and in the end, fell asleep on top of Bruce’s head.

Bruce was still asleep. The lines on his face were smoothed out, relaxed, and Clark relished on the sight. It was the second time he found Bruce like this. If he had to choose the best thing about this road trip, it would probably be the fact that he could see Bruce relatively relaxed and unguarded.

“You’re up?” his Ma whispered from behind them. He looked around and found her head sticking out of the kitchen window.

Clark smiled softly at her. “Bruce’s still sleeping,” he whispered back.

“I’ll make you both a cup of tea.”

It was then that Clark noticed that the two teacups they brought outside and set on the steps once they were empty weren’t there anymore. His Ma must’ve picked them up when she came outside at 7 am.

Clark looked down at Bruce again. His mouth was slightly parted and his eyelids fluttered slowly. He was putting all his weight on Clark, and the latter wondered how they hadn’t toppled backward during the night.

His Ma came a minute later, two teacups in hand. She set one next to Bruce and gave the other to Clark. Before she left, she looked fondly at the both of them before ruffling Clark’s hair as if he was a teenager again. He had an inkling that she knew something he didn’t, and he was sure she would corner him somewhere and fire her questions away. He sighed.

Next to him, Bruce stirred in his sleep. Clark stilled, but Bruce was already waking up, lifting his head and sleepily looking around.

“Um, Ma brought you a cup of tea,” Clark said.

Bruce turned his head towards Clark’s voice and stared at him for a moment before staring down at the warming cup of tea. Clark bit his lip, trying not to smile at Bruce’s sleepy behaviour. Something finally cleared in Bruce’s eyes and he picked up the cup, holding back a yawn.

“Thanks,” Bruce mumbled, sipping his tea and rubbing the back of his neck.

Clark couldn’t help smirking. “Perhaps you should try the bed, next time.”

“Dunno, you’re shoulder’s pretty comfortable.”

Well. That certainly made Clark go pink all over again. He hid his face behind his own cup of tea. Clark cleared his voice before daring to talk again.

“So, do you have any news from the others?”

Bruce hummed, sipping. He took out his phone. “Diana and J’onn are in Chicago and Wally and Kyle in Miami. They’re all spending some time there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, since yesterday. I think they’re staying tomorrow, too.”

Clark hummed. “Seems like everyone’s enjoying themselves,” he said.

“I just hope they’re not forgetting about the mission. Especially Wally and Kyle. Diana sends me updates about the aliens they caught, but Wally hasn’t called or sent me messages since Kyle’s predicament,” Bruce said, mind getting clearer and returning to his usual, alert self. “Which, if what Kyle said is true, will end tomorrow.”

“I wonder how they’re dealing with it. Kyle as a woman, I mean. I hope Wally took some pictures,” Clark said wistfully.

“Blackmail?”

“Precisely.”

* * *

It was after lunch, both Clark and Bruce were standing before the sink, Clark washing and Bruce drying the dishes. It felt so _utterly domestic_ and so _right_.

Bruce had a speculating gaze as he looked down at the plate in his hand, lips tugging downwards in thought. Clark smiled to himself—even when he thought, Bruce looked intimidating.

Obviously, it didn't affect Clark anymore. He now knew Bruce for more than a decade. He was probably the only one at the Justice League that knew Batman best.

(Not that the others even _tried_ to learn anything about Batman. Batman was too intimidating to approach, too scary. Wonder Woman tried many times to engage him in a conversation, but Batman would only answer with noncommittal grunts before leaving.

Superman usually rolled his eyes at Batman’s display of asocial behaviour.)

“So, what will you be showing me today?” Bruce asked, breaking the silence for the first time. He was cleaning the plate with automatic motions, not looking at Clark.

The latter tilted his head upwards, pretending to be thinking. “Well, I thought we could go to the roof and laze around?”

“Laze around?” Bruce repeated, raising a brow. Clark felt a small smile forming on his own lips. “Why would we laze around when we could do something useful? If it’s just to spend the day doing absolutely nothing, we could just as well hit the road an do _something_ for our mission.”

Clark _knew_ the man would say something like that. Bruce and ‘relax’ were complete antonyms, they didn't mix well. “Oh, well, since spending time with me is so _useless_ you can go outside and help my parents with the farming.”

Bruce frowned at his plate as if it had offended him. “ _Fine_ ,” he said at last.

“Fine to what? Spending time lazing around or farming?”

He seemed to think about it. “Depends. What would I be doing with the farming?” He finally asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Clark snorted, bumping his shoulder playfully against Bruce’s as he washed the last plate. “I was thinking about going to the roof,” Clark repeated. “I used to go up there to think about stuff. It has a beautiful view, and the time under the sun might give you some colour.”

Bruce looked down at his pale skin. “It’s been a few years since my last tan,” he agreed. “Might need some sun cream, though.”

Clark’s eyes danced with amusement. “Would you like a baseball cap as well? I think I still have one from my teenage years.”

He actually looked like he was considering it! “I don't think that will be necessary.”

After they were done with the dishes, Bruce followed Clark outside and, without prompting, wrapped his arms around Clark’s neck and took a step closer. Clark instinctively wrapped his own arms around Bruce’s waist, except that he didn’t take flight directly afterward. Instead, he stared down at Bruce’s face, just inches from his. Bruce was looking up at him with a pointed, expecting look.

It was only when Bruce rose a questioning brow that Clark snapped out of his daze and flew them both to the roof.

Bruce immediately sat down, taking sun cream out of his pocket and spraying his unprotected skin─his forearms, neck, the bit of collarbone that peaked from his V-neck T-shirt, his cheeks, forehead, and the tip of his nose. It was absolutely _adorable_ ; Clark had to look away to hide his smile and flushed cheeks.

How did Bruce do to look cute _and_ intimidating at the same time?

Then, Bruce laid back down, closing his eyes and facing the sun. Clark sat next to him and imitated him. The roof was a little uncomfortable to actually lie down, but Bruce’s presence at his side made everything better (and now Clark had an uncontrollable soppy smile on his face and _god_ he was so _screwed_ ).

They spent most of the afternoon like that, relaxing under the sunlight and Clark listening to his parents share snarky remarks over the barn. It felt so good to be back, to spend this much time with his parents.

Even if Clark could fly every day to the farm, he rarely did it─what with Perry breathing down his neck to make sure Clark did his job correctly (Clark spent nights without sleeping to make sure he made it to the deadline, making up for all the times he had to fly during work hours to save people).

He was shaken out of his dozing by Bruce’s phone ring. Bruce opened his eyes slowly, squinting at the sunlight before slowly taking his phone out and answering. Clark heard Wally’s voice on the other side.

“What.” Bruce’s voice was flat. Displeased.

“Hey,” Wally answered nervously. “Sorry for not updating you.”

Bruce grunted, slowly sitting up. “Any news?”

“Yeah, actually. Kyle and I aren’t just messing around, you know. So J’onn led us to this alien last night─yes, we captured him,” he added as if he knew Bruce would interrupt, “but the thing is, we also found what I think is a blueprint to some weapon in the guy’s pocket. I tried to decipher what damage it could have, but I’m not _that_ good with blueprints. Do you want a pic?”

“Yes.”

“‘Kay, I’ll send you one. Tonight we’ll be following a lead to their entire group. Did you know there are lots of aliens in Miami? It’s crazy!”

“Hm.”

“How many are there in Kansas, by the way?” Wally asked. There was a faint sound of microwaving, and Clark wondered if Wally and Kyle were having lunch in the middle of the afternoon.

“None,” Bruce answered, laying back on the roof and crossing a leg over the other. “There seems to be more around the coastlines than in the interior.”

Wally hummed, and there was a _ding!_ and the microwave door opening. Clark heard a woman talking on the other side, muffled and incomprehensible, and had to remember that it was _Kyle_. “The most populated areas, then.”

Although Wally couldn’t see him, Bruce nodded. “Send me the blueprints, Wally.”

“Right away!”

And then the line went dead. Bruce sighed, massaging his temples slowly. He straightened again when he heard the telltale sound of receiving a message and looked at the picture Wally undoubtedly sent.

“It’s a weapon all right,” Bruce muttered, glaring a hole at the phone screen.

Clark scooted closed, looking over Bruce’s shoulder at the screen. It was a slightly blurry photograph of a blue paper with white drawings. Clark didn’t know a thing about blueprints or anything of the like, so he wasn’t much of a help.

“What does it do?” he asked curiously.

Bruce looked at him somberly. “It looks like it could wipe out a whole city, buildings and inhabitants at the same time.” Clark’s eyes widened a fraction, but Bruce continued. “I’ll send this to Lucius to make sure.”

“Isn’t Lucius going to wonder how Bruce Wayne came into the possession of a deadly weapon blueprint?”

Bruce’s lips twitched, and then he opened his eyes wide and dumbly, mouth parting slightly. “I don’t know, Lucius,” he said, voice clearly Brucie’s. “I was just walking down the street when someone bumped into me and let this fall down. I don’t know anything about blueprints, so I thought that you could explain it to me.”

Clark stared for a moment, nonplussed. “That’s so disturbing. Don’t do that.”

“Besides,” Bruce continued normally, “I have an inkling that Lucius already suspects that I’m Batman. We just never talk about it.” He typed something on his phone.

They laid back down (there was nothing they could do about it at the moment, really). But Bruce was too tense to relax again.


	7. Back On The Road

The next morning, Bruce walked down around seven am, accompanied by his Ma. Clark was up for a couple hours now, lazily watching the telly with a cup of warm chocolate. When he heard them, he looked up and smiled at them.

It had surprised Clark that Bruce had decided to actually use the bedroom, for once. He had listened at first, making sure that Bruce wasn’t having any nightmare, but the man had slept soundly. And he did look well rested. He was already dressed up, a white dress shirt with the sleeves up to his elbows and the first buttons unbuttoned. He had traded his black slacks to blue jeans because of the heat and was walking around in his socks.

Clark sighed internally, willing himself to think about Bruce with some other word than ‘adorable’. Had Bruce had any mind-reading powers, he would be beating Clark with a kryptonite-made batarang or something of the sort.

He guiltily looked away and followed them to the kitchen, where his mother was already bustling about.

“Bruce, dear, could you go to the chicken coop and pick some eggs for me?”

Bruce stared at her for a moment, then glanced at Clark. The latter shrugged. Bruce left with a confused expression. As if on cue, his mother turned around to face Clark with a knowing look.

“Do you have something to tell me?”

Clark gazed at her apprehensively. “Dunno… do I?”

Her look softened and she sat on a chair, inviting Clark to do the same in front of her. He did. “Honey, you know you can tell me anything, right? Of course, if you don’t want to, I’ll understand.”

He fidgeted with his hands, silently thinking about all this─whatever _this_ was─over. “I really don’t want to.”

Obviously, he figured what she was talking about. His and Bruce’s sudden closeness. (Or maybe Clark’s expressions were too obvious. _God_ , did Bruce figure it out, too?) Before he could talk about it with his Ma, he needed to think about it. To clear stuff up. Make sure whatever he was feeling was okay and could be subdued. He doubted Bruce would appreciate if Clark’s feelings started to hinder their missions.

His Ma delicately took his hand, squeezing softly before standing back up and continuing to prepare breakfast. “Just know that I am here if you need to talk,” she said before letting the subject drop.

“Thanks.”  _Great_ , he thought gloomily, now he had to actually think about these feelings.

His Pa had the time to join them before Bruce came back a short time after, holding the bottom of his shirt like a pouch for the eggs. He looked ruffled. “Those chickens are a _menace_.”

* * *

After breakfast, Bruce ordered Clark to shower, informing everyone that they would be leaving shortly after lunch. That definitely subdued everyone’s mood and they mostly ate quietly. His Pa usually stayed quiet during meal time, letting his Ma and Clark talk away happily about everything and nothing. His Ma did try to encourage conversation, but nobody shared her spirits.

They spent their last hours in Smallville huddled on the small couch, Bruce next to Clark, then his Ma and Pa, watching the telly in silence. It was comfortable and, again, it felt just _right_. Having his parents and Bruce next to him all comfortable with each other, that is.

It was two pm when they started packing the things they had taken out of their luggage. Clark transported them to the car trunk while Bruce gave his farewell, getting a hug from both Clark’s parents. And then it was Clark’s turn, and there were definitely tears somewhere.

They promised to call and to update them on their mission as they entered the car. And then off they went, back on the road. Clark was the one driving, getting them out of Smallville and back into I-70, destination to Denver.

They needn’t stop at all on the way to eat anything─they brought snacks and biscuits with them, his Ma’s way of making sure they were properly fed. The GPS calculation said that they would be getting to Denver at around nine pm, and Bruce called Alfred to tell him just that.

Afterwards, they shared a companionable silence where Bruce rested his eyes and Clark hummed some current POP song that he didn’t even know the title of.

For once, it wasn’t Clark that broke the silence. It was Bruce’s phone. The ringing startled said man awake, sleepily fumbling with the electronic device for a moment before accepting the call.

“Bruce?” came Diana’s soft yet strong voice, carrying around the car. “Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you just fine. Is everything all right?”

“Oh yes, yes, everything is fine. Chicago is _splendid_ , indeed.”

“She’s quite enamoured with the fountains,” came J’onn voice accompanied by Diana’s laughter.

But then she grew serious again. “Wally called and informed us about the blueprint of a weapon. Do you have any news about that?”

“Other than the fact that it can wipe out an entire city?” Bruce asked rhetorically. “No. I sent the picture to Lucius and I’m still waiting for his input.”

“That is worrisome. J’onn and I could not make any of the aliens talk. In fact, they did not seem aware of the weapon at all.”

“Either they don’t communicate between them, or they’re all working on their own.”

“Whichever group succeeds wins the prize,” Bruce continued. “The question here is _what_. Succeeding in what? What prize would they win?”

Diana hummed quietly on her side, probably too quiet for Bruce to actually hear it. “I will let you handle the investigation. After all, you are the World’s Greatest Detective for a reason, are you not?”

There was teasing in her tone and Bruce actually smirked. “I’ll keep you updated with my findings.” And then he cut the line, leaning back against in seat and frowning his eyebrows in thought.

Clark stayed silent during the conversation, too busy studying Bruce’s features to actually add his input (not that he had anything to say, really).

Yeah, he could forget about his feelings not hindering missions. Clark could barely concentrate on the road as it was.

* * *

Denver was a busy thing at night. Clark barely had the place to park the car in front of a Burger King. Bruce shuffled out of the car, right cheek red from sleepily pressing it against the glass. Clark was steadily noticing a pattern here─Bruce, whenever he was on the passenger seat, always fell asleep. If he wasn’t doing anything to entertain himself, his brain would try to catch up to the multiple hours of sleep he undoubtedly lacked.

They sat at a table and ordered the fastest thing, as they were both too tired to actually appreciate dinner. The only reason they were even out there eating instead of the comfort of a cosy mattress and warm sheets was that Alfred insisted. Had Bruce been alone, he would have probably ignored the request, but Clark couldn’t just lie to Alfred.

So he dragged a half-asleep Bruce to a loud fast food, internally hoping that the man would be able to continue resting once at the hotel.

(He doubted that would be the case, but he had _hope_.)

Clark could go days without sleeping─exposing himself to the sunlight was enough to brighten him up─but he spent seven hours driving nonstop because Mr. _the-mission-is-getting-sketchier-and-we-need-to-end-it-fast_ insisted on not stopping (no WC and no coffee). His mind was exhausted and sleep would be much appreciated.

“We could have stopped for _coffee_. I never saw you refuse coffee,” Clark mumbled into his burger.

Bruce hummed, not really interested since it wasn’t the first time Clark complained about it, and continued munching his chicken nuggets.

“If you wanted coffee so much, we should’ve stopped on the way here.” Clark actually had to stop Bruce from ordering a large cup of coffee, since they would be going to bed.

His response was a lone grunt. Clark sighed.

“Seriously,” he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else. But Bruce still heard him, obviously.

Bruce sighed wearily. “Had I known you were so testy without your caffeine dose, I’d have let you stop.”

“I’m not _testy_.”

“Petulant, then.”

“That’s _worse_!” Clark said, offended. “I’m just used to have, like, five to seven coffees a day.”

“And Alfred talks about _me_ ,” Bruce muttered, and Clark wasn’t sure if it was meant for him or not.

“I work during the day, you know. Like, a _real_ job. With people around you, subordinates and _superiors_ , with _deadlines_ ─things you’re _paid_ to do, and if you _don't_ , they _don’t_ pay you. And if they don’t pay you, you can’t pay _rent_. And if you can’t pay─”

“All right, I get it,” Bruce said.

Clark smirked. “Look who’s testy now.”

“ _You_ ’re making me testy.”

“I didn’t have my coffee, Bruce. And I wonder why.”

Bruce sighed dramatically.


	8. Slowly But Surely

Although Bruce had shown that he wanted to finish this mission as soon as possible, they still took their time at breakfast the next morning. Instead of staying in their hotel room, they decided to return to last night’s Burger King, where Clark ordered two large cups of Joe Coffee for himself and Bruce enjoyed an Iced Tea.

“I thought you would have been worse than me, regarding coffee,” Clark confessed, slightly embarrassed as he gulped down his beverage.

Bruce quirked an eyebrow. “Contrary to popular belief,” he gave Clark a pointed look, “I am _not_ addicted to coffee.”

“Really? How can you bear go out in the night without coffee sustaining your body?”

“I do take coffee an hour or so before leaving for patrol,” he allowed, nodding. “However, I wouldn’t want to find myself addicted to it.”

Clark looked at Bruce’s Iced Tea and remembered that Bruce only ever drank tea since this road trip began. “Only addicted to tea, then?” he jested.

Bruce shrugged, and Clark was a little jealous that the movement looked so natural and elegant on him. “Alfred’s influence, I’m sure.”

They enjoyed their beverages and left around ten am, both satiated and ready for an eleven hour trip to Las Vegas, where they would stop around a small city or town in Utah for lunch (probably. Clark hoped so, at least. Nobody ever knew with Bruce).

* * *

They weren’t even halfway to Las Vegas when they received a call from Diana’s phone, except it was J’onn’s voice that drifted through the car’s speakers. His voice sounded a little tense, and Clark could hear the sound of the latest pop song playing on the radio along with what he guessed was Diana’s humming.

“Ba-Bruce,” J’onn corrected. Clark found it entirely funny that even J’onn had some trouble to call Batman by his real name. Then again, Clark knew Bruce and his identity way before they formed the League. “I sense an increasing rise in number of unfamiliar and peculiar presence near you.”

“Near us?” Clark asked. Quite foolishly, he looked behind them, but only a few lone cars were driving calmly behind them. “Where?”

There was a moment of silence before J’onn’s voice came through. “About an hour away.”

“Whe─”

“Aspen?” Bruce asked, typing something on the GPS.

Another moment of silence, where Clark imagined J’onn searching in his own GPS. Or maybe a map. “It appears so. I apologise─although their sudden increase in numbers is recognisable, their exact location is still unidentifiable. It would take some hours to pinpoint their exact location.”

“It’s all right, J’onn, we’ll get them,” Clark replied.

Next to him, Bruce was scowling at the road, his eyebrows drawn together and eyes hard. “What could they possibly want in Aspen? I thought they only stuck to populated coastlines.”

“It is worrisome, this movement was quite unpredictable. They were not present in Aspen a day ago.”

“We’ll investigate,” Clark reassured, somehow feeling a little off the loop, even if he had all the information. “How is Diana?” he asked, trying for a change of subject to make this tense atmosphere disappear.

It didn’t work.

“She is delighted. We are preparing to leave in a few hours.”

“How’s Chicago? Everything up to your expectations?”

J’onn chuckled quietly and Clark’s eyebrows went up, glad to hear his friend’s amusement. “I think that Diana got too many expectations. However, she does not regret our stay.”

Clark snorted, nodding even if J’onn couldn’t see him. “Diana sometimes expects a little too much,” he agreed good-naturally.

“I heard that!” came Diana’s reply, far away from the phone.

Clark chuckled and after talking some more, he ended the call, turning towards Bruce. The man was tense─his shoulders drawn up, his lips pursed, still furrowing his eyebrows and glaring at the road. Clark had a moment of regret at the loss of the companionable silence and small talk that they shared before the call.

Bruce had a mission now, and there was no time to have fun.

“How far are we from Aspen?” Clark asked, his interest not totally on the task.

“Around an hour or so.”

Clark sighed.

* * *

It was 2 pm when they arrived. Their stop in Aspen was not planned, obviously, so there was no hotel booked or restaurant reservation. Bruce parked the car just outside of Aspen where no one could see them fumbling in the backseat to get into their suits.

Bruce had J’onn on the comlink, trying to get the right coordinates of the aliens’ location now that they were on site.

Aspen was no place for Batman to use his grappling hook, so he had to fly with Superman up into the sky (not that Clark was complaining). He had an arm around Clark’s shoulders while the other held an incredible amount of batarangs. Jeez, he was already in combat mode. Clark suspected he wouldn’t even mind if Clark dropped him or anything. Would probably roll with it.

He whispered the directions so Clark could take them to where J’onn indicated. Now that they were on the place, J’onn could easily guide their recognisable auras (or however J’onn could simply find them) and lead them to the aliens’ auras.

(Clark still hasn’t figured out how J’onn’s powers worked. It was all just confusing.)

They landed on the top of a warehouse’s roof. It looked abandoned─the windows were broken and sealed with wooden boards that have been roughed by the weather. The front door was secured by a firm lock. The warehouse, Clark quickly noticed, was made of lead. Or at least covered with lead.

Clark frowned at it. “Either they were lucky, or they knew we were coming,” he informed Bruce. “I can’t see through the walls.”

Next to him, Batman let out a huff. “Let’s go.”

And then he _glided_ to the ground with a very impressive jump. Clark followed him in the air. Somehow, Bruce managed to not make a sound, but at this point of knowing him, Clark wasn’t really surprised (impressed, yes, but not surprised). Bruce gestured to the firm lock with a gloved hand.

“Quietly,” he commanded.

Clark did as ordered and crushed the lock quietly in his palm. He looked around to see if there were any cameras, but there were none. (He guessed that that was probably what Batman looked for at first before approaching.)

Bruce opened the door slowly, peeking inside before slipping in. It was a small warehouse that looked bigger on the outside─mostly because the interior was full of empty wooden crates. In the centre of the place, however, were a dozen of people talking quietly between them. It was all quite disturbing if Clark was being honest with himself. The people stood in a circle in the middle of the warehouse, in the dark, surrounded by empty crates, and hushing in a language Clark did not recognise.

“What are they saying?” Bruce asked in a muted tone.

Clark licked his lips nervously, thoroughly creeped out by the scene. Bruce didn’t look as disturbed, and Clark remembered that Bruce had already encountered a freaking cult and that this was nothing new to him.

“I don’t know,” Clark answered truthfully. “They… I don’t think they are speaking a human language at all.”

Bruce breathed in slowly, getting ready for action. If Clark let his hearing expand, he could hear Bruce’s heart beating softly, controlled, and his blood flowing (if he concentrated he could probably hear the muscles tensing and ready to leap). “So it’s them,” he informed quietly.

Except that these aliens probably had super hearing like Clark, because next thing he knew they were turning around and letting harsh sounds that were definitely _not_ human. (Clark wondered if that was how people heard Kryptonian language.)

They were fast─certainly faster than humans, but not as fast as Superman. However, they were shapeshifters, and Clark definitely was not. These aliens could make their arms as sharp as knives, but Clark’s skin was impenetrable and he just… punched his way in, crushing and lasers flying out of his eyes as they approached. They went down with a sickening sound and smell of sizzling flesh. In a matter of a handful of minutes, all of Superman’s opponents were down and what looked like unconscious.

Clark called the Watchtower and looked on as the aliens lying on the ground disappeared in a flash of blue.

He turned around in time to see an alien’s shapeshifted sharp arm explode under a batarang. It went down with a smart punch, unconscious. Behind Batman, another one went down with a well-placed exploding batarang in the leg. This one went down in a puddle of whitish sizzling Jello.

Bruce’s breath was slightly ragged, his heart beating just a little too fast from the exertion. But that wasn’t it, Clark noticed as he approached slowly. The aliens disappeared in a soft blue light and Batman leaned against one of the wooden crates behind him. Clark was by his side in under a second, touching his bicep.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, voice laced with worry that he couldn’t hide.

He could _feel_ Bruce’s irritated scowl under the Batman cowl. “Nothing,” he said sharply, forcefully pushing his hand away. Clark let him.

“You’re bleeding,” Clark remarked blankly, this time effectively hiding his worry (he knew how Bruce reacted to worry). There was a large gash on Bruce’s thigh, blood oozing from a deep wound.

Bruce huffed and straightened again. His left leg wobbled a little, but he maintained his equilibrium. “It’s fine,” he said, voice rough. “It’s just a knife wound.”

“Just a knife wound,” Clark repeated. Because, really, he couldn’t quite believe his ears. The way Bruce just said that like it was nothing.

Of course, he knew his friend got injured most of the time─and certainly a lot more than Clark ever was. But… It didn’t mean Clark had to like it.

He remembered, then, how sharp those shapeshifters could morph their body parts. It sliced through a wall, Clark noted. He offered his hand to Bruce, making his eyes as earnest as possible. He knew, logically, that Bruce was mostly unaffected and absolutely used to his puppy dog eyes, and that he would refuse the help anyway. But this time Bruce’s eyes lingered on the hand, and Clark was a little worried that he was losing blood to the point that Bruce’s heart stuttered for a bit.

And then Bruce took his offered hand and looped his other arm around Clark’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Clark breathed in sharply. Blood, soot and metal invaded his nose, but he didn’t mind. At all.

* * *

So it happened that Bruce actually thought about bringing anything necessary to clean and treat wounds, which is something that Clark completely overlooked since, well, he needn’t anything of the like.

Clark flew them back to the car, making sure that Bruce’s wound wouldn’t rub against him. Then Bruce lay in the backseat as Clark rummaged through the baggage to find the first aid kit. And then he watched as Bruce cleaned the wound and stitched it.

“How many times did you do that?” Clark asked curiously, because Bruce worked with a practised hand.

Bruce grunted as he bandaged the wound. “Usually, it’s Alfred who does this, but in dire situations…”

“Dire situations,” Clark repeated neutrally.

Bruce looked up, annoyed. He had taken his cowl off so he could see better─his hair was sweaty and plastered to his forehead, his eyes sharp and grey under the dim light of the car. “Not everyone’s skin is as hard as steel, Clark.”

It was sharp and meant to be hurtful, alienating. But Clark knew that Bruce got unpleasant when injured and tired, especially next to Superman who he couldn’t help comparing himself to.

Clark pushed the jab out of his mind and his eyes softened, used to Bruce’s sharp tongue when he was irritated. He shifted out of the backseat and patted the place he vacated, gesturing for Bruce to lay down. Bruce rolled his eyes but did as he was told, stretching his leg and making sure there were no bloodstains on the fake leather.

Clark sat in the seat behind the wheel, adjusting the seat back and looked behind. “Get some sleep,” he said, voice quiet.

Bruce scowled and leaned forward. “ _You_ sleep, Clark. You’re driving early.”

“Someone’s grumpy,” Clark singsonged, eyes gleaming with amusement.

Bruce gave him an askance glance that promised suffering before settling on the seat comfortably.

Clark knew he would regret it later, but he was too content to care. Bruce was being _playful_ ─he usually scorned Clark whenever he got hurt, refusing to look weak in front of him. He closed his eyes with a little smile and fell asleep, lulled by Bruce’s calm breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, heads up that from now on updates are gonna get slower. Real life and all that stuff. I had all these chapters written beforehand, but this was the last one. I'll try to not make you guys wait too long :)


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